“You missed the side latch on that bag,” Rob told her.

“Doesn’t matter,” Vanessa said.

“He never looks at the closet shelves anyway.”

“I look at them,” I said.

Vanessa’s hands stopped on the brass zipper of the suitcase.

She turned around slowly, every bit of color draining from her cheeks under the bright bedroom light.

Rob pulled his hands from his coat pockets, and his heavy key ring clattered onto the top of my dresser.

“Daniel,” Rob managed.